Another wadded ball of paper bounced off the rim of a trashcan already overflowing with soda cans, Mountain Dew in particular, as well as a small mountain of paper wads that had already found their way to said trashcan. The person responsible for the overflowing trashcan leaned back in a wooden chair that was in severe mismatch to the desk where a new piece of paper lay, having not yet been victimized by the pen in the person's teeth. Giving a sigh the person dropped his chair back onto all fours and then let the pen fall to lay on the page. Matt, as the person preferred to be called, stood up and stretched his arms above his head to work an ache that had been building between his shoulders.

As he stretched he turned his gaze to the red digital display of the clock next to his bed which shared the room with the mismatched chair and desk. Seeing the clock display the time as 5:03 Matt decided to give up on finishing the song he had been working on since he had arrived back to his loft after work that morning, which had been sometime after noon and before one. With band practice quickly approaching Matt decided to grab a quick shower before heading to the studio space that he and the band rented for rehearsals.

Standing in the shower he washed quickly and as did he found himself once more humming the insistent tune that had been haunting his dreams for weeks. The same tune he had previously been trying to capture on the page. Silently he gave thanks to the upcoming practice hoping that it would distract him from the melody. After toweling, again checking the clock which now read 5:17 he pulled on a pair of jeans, slipped on a pair of canvas shoes and slid on a shirt bearing the visage of a skull with a crown and a lyrical line "Crowned by our lies, we live our lives hidden in disguise", an heirloom from his days in the False Kings. 

After getting dressed Matt moved fluidly through the flat grabbing his jacket of the back of a chair, his phone from the charger and his keys and wallet from the table by the door. He only paused to lock the door behind himself. Walking the few stairs from his door to the sidewalk, where his moped was locked up, he pulled his phone and checked the time as he unlocked the moped and got on. 5:23 the phone read, more than enough time to make the 20 minute trip across town even supposing traffic and red lights he could easily be at the studio before 6. Pulling out from his flat and throttling the moped he cursed under his breath as he once as again realized he was humming the dream melody.